Good times a step closer for changed New Orleans

NEW ORLEANS - Tim Williamson was asked this month to assess the state of his native New Orleans after the disaster.

NEW ORLEANS — Tim Williamson was asked this month to assess the state of his native New Orleans after the disaster.

“After the disaster?” the nonprofit CEO quipped, with a seen-it-all mordancy that’s as common here as a pot-holed side street. “Which one?”

The past few months have provided a roller-coaster run-up to Hurricane Katrina’s fifth anniversary, which will be observed here today with solemn prayers, a speech by President Barack Obama, a reunion of Superdome survivors and a jazz funeral for the more than 1,800 dead.

In early 2010, there was a feeling that the funeral band, come Aug. 29, would have more reasons than ever to make its traditional shift from a dirge to a joyful noise. New Orleans’ unemployment rate was lowest of any large metro area in the country. A new mayor, Mitch Landrieu, had been elected with the support of blacks and whites. And the Saints had won the Super Bowl.

Then came April, the BP gusher and a four-month lamentation.

“The oil spill was such a reality check,” said Eli Ackerman, a New Orleans activist and blogger who recently moved to New York. “It was a reminder that this was a region that never got over the storm. That in some sense, it’s always going to be between storms.”

Today, this 292-year-old city finds itself defined, in many ways, by a state of between-ness — with its people living daily between states of celebration and mourning, optimism and despair, progress and stagnancy.

Defying pessimistic projections of 2005, many displaced residents showed their faith in the city by returning home. With nearly 1.2 million people, the New Orleans metro region has recovered 91 percent of its pre-storm population, while the city proper is at 78 percent, according to the Greater New Orleans Community Data Center.

It’s not the only good news: Average wages increased 14 percent from 2004 to 2008. And thanks in part to radical school reforms, more than half the city’s public-school students attend a school that meets state standards, compared with 28 percent in 2003-2004.

But even the most ardent civic boosters acknowledge that the city also remains saddled with both the problems Katrina wrought and the equally enduring scourges that predated the deluge. More than 64,000 buildings in the city are still blighted. The nonprofit homeless advocacy group UNITY released a report this month saying that homelessness had doubled since Katrina, and that as many as 6,000 people are living in abandoned buildings.

The scandal-ridden police department likely will soon be closely monitored by the Justice Department, at the request of Landrieu. The per-capita murder rate is the highest in the nation.

“The crime is still terrible. There’s streets down in the Seventh Ward that’s killing zones. So when they say we’re back, and everything’s up and running, well, I just have to wonder,” said Melvin Navarre, a retired armored transport branch manager who rebuilt his house in troubled New Orleans East.

Kirk Joseph, a noted sousaphone player and former member of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, said life in post-storm New Orleans remains a hassle and that some “nonsense stuff” still needs to be fixed.

“But there’s hope, man,” he added.

If nothing else, the flood-prone city is more heavily fortified. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has built about 70 percent of a new perimeter of massive walls, floodgates and fortified levees.

Reform goes beyond flood control. Katrina prompted citizens, national research groups and some government entities to tear apart outdated or tragically broken city functions. Voters unified an antiquated tax-assessment system, in which seven assessors had run little fiefdoms that led to inconsistency and allegations of cronyism. The criminal justice system has undergone numerous changes, including a top-to-bottom modernization of the public defender’s office.

The public-school system, once one of the worst-performing and worst-managed in the nation, was largely re-imagined by a post-storm act of the Legislature that put more than 100 low-performing campuses in a state-run Recovery School District. Today, 61 percent of students attend charter schools, the highest rate in the nation, according to the Brookings Institution, a public-policy research group based in Washington. City schools are now non-unionized, and in most cases, parents must choose the school they want their children to attend.

The system is not without problems, or critics: Many on the left were dismayed by the dismantling of the old teachers union. Families who lose lotteries for spots at popular schools must often bus their kids across town. The Southern Poverty Law Center last month sued the state for failing to adequately educate 4,500 special-needs students.

But overall, Brookings found that this system has demonstrated “sustained” academic growth since Katrina, based on standardized tests.

More tangible results can be found on such campuses as the New Orleans Charter Science and Math Academy, an accumulation of trailers joined by wooden boardwalks on a vacant lot.

The school is in one of the city’s poorest neighborhoods — 92 percent of its 240 students come from low-income families, 98 percent are African-American. Yet in the two years since it opened in 2008, it has outperformed most other local schools.

Schools like this one have blossomed on what Williamson, the nonprofit CEO, touts as the city’s new “frontier for entrepreneurship.”

“What Katrina did, in a sense, is it made New Orleans a startup city, and everyone here became an entrepreneur — where everybody had to identify our problems and come up with solutions,” said Williamson, who runs the Idea Village, a business incubator.

The Brookings anniversary report shows a spike in business startups, although researchers warn that such numbers sometimes reflect the turmoil workers go through during periods of shock and recession.

In his first “state of the city” address last month, Mayor Landrieu laid out the city’s problems with a sobering candor. New Orleans, he said, was “in peril.” Although the administration of his predecessor, Mayor Ray Nagin, had told Landrieu that the city faced a $35 million deficit, the new mayor’s staff found that mismanaged budgeting had obscured the real deficit, which was nearly twice that.

One dramatic sign of government ineptitude: There has been no hot water in City Hall for two years.

Post-storm data affirm that this Deep South city, so long characterized by the stark divides between blacks and whites, haves and have-nots, remains so today. The Brookings report shows that black and Latino household incomes are, respectively, 44 percent and 25 percent lower than that of whites.

To drive around town in 2010 is to toggle between two recoveries. There are the high-water, high-income, high-profile neighborhoods of Uptown, the Garden District and the French Quarter, pristine as ever, beautiful and bustling.

There are more-modest neighborhoods, such as the Lower Ninth Ward and New Orleans East, with their long stretches of half-wrecked houses and empty lots with grass pushing through cracks in concrete.

And there is Lakeview, a newer, upper-middle-income neighborhood of 7,000 small, graceful homes laced with wide, parklike boulevards. Lakeview was badly flooded, but today, it’s hard to tell it ever happened.

Among Lakeview’s residents is Sandra Mann, a divorcee who found herself completely on her own after the disaster. She moved from rental house to rental house while she fought the insurance companies and agonized about what to do with her ruined, two-story town home.

She suffered a nervous breakdown, spending five days in the hospital, before deciding that the only way to get her life back was to get her home back.

“At the end of August of 2006, I fixed myself a cocktail, sat on my couch in my apartment and thought, you’ve never built a house before,” she said. “You don’t know how to build a house. But you can do it. And in 31/2 months, I did it.”

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